


A Struggle to Communicate

by Songbirdsara



Series: Communication [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Four Continents Figure Skating Championships, Lack of Communication, M/M, so much thirst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22625068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Songbirdsara/pseuds/Songbirdsara
Summary: Phichit thought he and Seung-gil worked everything out during their visit to Hasetsu....But at Four Continents, communication proves to still be an issue...***Written for Seungchuchu Week 2020, Day 6: Competitions/Celebrations
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Phichit Chulanont/Lee Seung Gil
Series: Communication [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1627672
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43
Collections: Seungchuchu Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

Phichit bounced a bit as he waited in the hotel lobby, checking and rechecking his phone. He knew Seung-gil didn’t have far to travel; with Four Continents being held in Gangneung, his sort-of boyfriend practically had home-ice advantage. Still, most of the other South Korean skaters had already checked into the hotel.

Phichit hadn’t exactly been keeping tabs, but…

Social media was a blessing and a curse.

Not that Seung-gil ever posted much, but Phichit was fairly certain his alerts were set up well enough to inform him if _somebody_ had seen South Korea’s top skater checking in at the front desk.

“C’mon, Twitter, don’t fail me now,” he muttered under his breath.

“Ah! Chulanont! Already nervous? No worries! The King is magnanimous even when claiming his throne!” came an overly-bombastic voice, causing him to nearly drop his phone.

“Oh. JJ. Hi. Um, nice to see you?” Phichit offered. Leroy hadn’t made it to the Grand Prix Final in December, so his confidence was a little off-putting, but far be it from Phichit to point this out.

“Of course, it is!” JJ replied with a little smirk. “I’m sure you were just waiting around to congratulate me, that’s sweet of you!”

Phichit was confused. Leroy had won Canadian Nationals, sure, but it seemed a little odd to brag about a domestic competition, no matter if it _was_ Nationals.

JJ waggled his left hand in Phichit’s direction, and he caught the glint of gold on his ring finger and finally understood. “Ohhhhh, right. Congratulations on your wedding!” he chirped with what he hoped was the proper level of enthusiasm.

“Yes. My Isabella has finally made an honest man of me,” JJ said warmly, a hint of real happiness crossing his features for a moment before his mien darkened slightly. “I told them I’d beat them,” he muttered under his breath, quietly enough that Phichit wasn’t positive he’d understood.

Surely, he wasn’t talking about Yuuri and Victor? Marriage seemed an odd thing to be competitive over, but, then again, JJ was the definition of odd.

“Uh, right. That’s…that’s great, JJ. Um, just…” Phichit caught sight of a familiar figure over JJ’s shoulder and hastened to bow out of the awkward conversation. “…Just great! Good luck this weekend!”

JJ bristled, straightening to his full height. “The King doesn’t need luck! I have the power of love on my side!”

“Cool. That’s…that’s just…just really cool. Um, I’m just…just going to go…be over here now,” Phichit stammered, ducking under JJ’s outstretched arms and hastening in the direction of the front desk, where he’d finally spied Seung-gil with his coach. Lord, but JJ was just…kind of exhausting. Isabella must have the patience of a saint, he found himself musing.

And speaking of patience…

He’d been waiting for _hours_ to greet his sort-of boyfriend!

“Seung-gil! Hey! Over here!” he called out happily as he approached the front desk.

Seung-gil and his coach glanced over at the call, Seung-gil’s face impassive, while his coach looked mildly annoyed.

(Min-so, Phichit reminded himself. Her name was Min-so…)

Min-so tilted her head up, muttering something into Seung-gil’s ear. The South Korean skater furrowed his brow slightly, looking almost annoyed before bending down to grab his bags before striding in Phichit’s direction.

“Chulanont,” Seung-gil said with a curt nod as they passed, Min-so staring straight ahead.

Phichit felt more than a little wrong-footed as he watched them stride toward the elevator banks. “Oh. Um. Right. We’ll…we’ll just catch up later then!” he called towards their backs, feeling lost and very confused. Seung-gil looked over his shoulder, something glinting in his slate-grey eyes before Min-so pulled him into the waiting lift.

Feeling forlorn, all Phichit could do was watch as the doors closed.

***

Yuuri glanced at his fiancé in concern as Phichit recounted his lobby run-ins with JJ and Seung-gil. It had barely been a month since Victor’s birthday celebration in Hasetsu…

Victor’s hand tightened on Yuuri’s thigh in a reassuring squeeze. “You’ve spoken, _da?_ ” Victor asked. “Since leaving Hasetsu, I mean?”

Phichit nodded glumly. “Yup. Almost every day. H-he seemed excited. _I_ was excited. To see him again. H-he said he’d show me around and then…and then…” He sighed, then buried his head in his arms on the table. “I don’t know what I did!” he groaned.

Yuuri leaned forward a bit, running his hand gently through Phichit’s thick locks. “Hey. Peach. Maybe he’s just focused on the competition. His coach is a bit…” he bit his lip, glancing in Victor’s direction for help.

“Intense,” Victor provided easily. “Min-so Park medaled in the Nagano Olympics; with PyeongChang coming up in a year…I’m sure she’s kicked training into high gear. Seung-gil probably just had to go along with her, is all.”

Phichit perked up a bit. “You think? I just…I thought he’d be happy to see me, and he barely even _looked_ at me…”

“I’m sure that’s all it is, Peach,” Yuuri said coaxingly. “We all saw you two over Christmas…”

“Some of us saw more than others,” Victor added with a wink, earning a sharp elbow from Yuuri. “But he likes you! Of course, he does!” the Russian skater and coach hastened to add.

Phichit’s phone buzzed on the table and he snatched it in a rush.

**Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **Hey**

Phichit beamed. “Oh. Sorry, he’s texting!”

Yuuri chuckled. “See? I’m sure everything is fine!”

Phichit barely heard his best friend, his fingers already flying over his screen.

 **To** **Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **Hey yourself! You seemed busy earlier!**

 **To** **Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **Meet up later?**

The dancing dots appeared, bouncing on his screen for an infuriatingly long time before a response finally came through.

**Seung-gil** ⛸❤️❤️❤️: **Not tonight.**

 **Seung-gil** ⛸❤️❤️❤️: **Sorry.**

Phichit frowned down at his phone for a long moment, until Yuuri tentatively cleared his throat. “Everything okay?” he asked gently.

Phichit shrugged. “I’m sure it’s fine!” he replied lightly, then stretched in an exaggerated yawn. “Ugh, I’m…I’m totally beat. Just…gonna call it an early night!” He stood hastily before either of the other skaters could question him, wriggling his fingers in a hasty farewell before speeding toward the elevators.

Once he was safely away, he allowed himself to blink away the hurt little tears that had caught in his eyes. He’d been so excited to see Seung-gil again…

He’d never even considered the thought that maybe Seung-gil wouldn’t feel the same.

***

“Phichit? Phichit are you paying any attention?”

Phichit swung around guiltily, wincing in apology as Satsuki raised her eyebrow at him. “Ah. Sorry. Just…”

“You’re distracted. Everything okay?” she asked. “Celestino just landed, he’ll be here in a couple hours if you want to pack it in for the morning…we still have tomorrow and the morning of the short program to practice if you’re not feeling it today.” Satsuki offered him a sympathetic little smile. “I know you’re probably tired…”

“I’m fine!” Phichit insisted, not willing to leave before Seung-gil made an appearance. A few feet down, he could see Victor bent over the boards, talking in Yuuri’s ear. Leo was out on the ice, Guang Hong a few meters away…surely Seung-gil wouldn’t skip out just because he was in his home country…

As if his thoughts had summoned the man, he finally caught sight of his quarry, appearing in all his mismatched black athletic-apparel glory. Trailing closely behind Seung-gil, Min-so scowled her way into the rink, her dark brows furrowed.

Phichit straightened, trying to catch Seung-gil’s eye as he passed, ready to offer a cheerful greeting if the other skater bothered to acknowledge him. Instead, he found himself the lucky recipient of Min-so’s intimidating gaze as she trailed behind her athlete.

Phichit shivered. “Ugh, she’s…”

“Intense,” Satsuki finished. “Yeah, Min-so has always been a little…focused. At least Seung-gil’s got a similar personality.”

Phichit bristled. “He doesn’t!”

Satsuki turned, blinking at him in surprise. “Oh, I’m sorry. I forget that you know him from your Hasetsu trips… I’m sure he’s friendly enough when there’s no competition to worry about!”

Phichit’s mind wandered to late night make-out sessions in the onsen and flirty runs around sleepy little towns. “Yeah. Friendly. That’s…he’s…nice,” he finished lamely. “I’m…just gonna go run through my step sequences one more time.” He hastened back out to the center of the rink before Satsuki could question him any further, though half his attention was still glued to Seung-gil.

He was midway through a bit of tricky footwork when he caught a flash of an all-black tracksuit in his peripheral. He spun around slowly, coming to a stop as he watched Seung-gil skate in wide loops, warming up. The Korean skater kept his eyes straight ahead, though Phichit thought he looked…preoccupied.

Maybe something had happened? Maybe that’s why Seung-gil was acting so…

Distant.

Making up his mind, he sped into an arc that would leave him a few feet to Seung-gil’s side as he began his cool-down laps.

“Hey,” he called when he was on a parallel circuit. Seung-gil’s head snapped in Phichit’s direction, then shifted to look toward Min-so.

“Hey,” Seung-gil replied quietly.

“I missed you,” Phichit offered tentatively, knowing the hiss of their blades would cover the sound of any conversation. “Can we catch up today?”

Again, Seung-gil looked in Min-so’s direction before grimacing. “She’s watching me. Says I’ve been slacking off.”

Phichit grimaced. “B-because you went to Hasetsu? Or…b-because of me?”

Seung-gil shrugged, then sped up slightly before spinning around to skate backwards. “She’s not my mother,” he muttered. Phichit wasn’t sure how to respond, but Seung-gil continued before he could think of anything to say. “And she’s wrong. She just doesn’t like…” He trailed off, his mouth tightening into a flat little line. “She’s not my _mother_ ,” he finally repeated.

Dimly, Phichit could hear the announcer calling for Leo to begin his short program run-through. Seung-gil sped up, swiveling into a bit of footwork before kicking up into a tight double loop. Then he slowed down, waiting for Phichit to catch up before continuing their laps.

“Okay. So Min-so isn’t your mother,” Phichit said, trying to keep his voice light and teasing. “Does that mean we can catch up later?”

Seung-gil’s sharp gaze focused on Phichit for a few long seconds and then he nodded curtly. “Yes. I would like that.”

***

**Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **Room 1806**

 **Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **9:00**

 **Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **If you still want**

 **Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **Please?**

Phichit smiled down at his phone, then hugged his worn hamster plushie tightly to his chest before falling backward on his bed. Silly Seung-gil. Phichit was harder to shake than that. He’d had to put up with far worse than one little brush off on his quest to make Yuuri his best friend.

**To Seung-gil** ⛸ ❤️❤️❤️: **OMW!!**

Bouncing out of bed, he snagged his track jacket and slipped into his neon yellow flip flops, checked his pocket for his room key, then padded his way out into the hallway. He passed a couple of lanyard bedecked ISU officials on his way to the elevator, tossing off a cheerful little wave before making his escape. The ride up to the 18th floor seemed to take ages and he was bouncing in impatience by the time the doors opened again.

A few quick turns and he was in front of room 1806, only hesitating half a heartbeat before quickly knocking. He could hear someone shuffling in the room, but when there was no response he knocked again, impatiently.

This time he could hear stomping and then the door was wrenched open, Seung-gil scowling impressively before his expression melted into recognition.

“Um, hi?” Phichit squeaked, feeling rather distracted at the sight before him. Seung-gil had clearly been in the shower, a towel hastily wrapped around his hips, raven hair rendered even darker by moisture, the drips sliding down his shoulders and…

“You’re early,” Seung-gil said flatly.

Oh. Right. Seung-gil had said 9:00 and it was…not even 8:15.

Phichit winced. “Um, I said I was on my way?”

Seung-gil blinked at him. “Oh. Is that what that meant?” he asked, backing up enough to allow Phichit to enter the room.

Ah. Right. Seung-gil didn’t have the benefit of a Detroit education to teach him Western text slang. “Sorry, it doesn’t matter. I should have paid closer attention to the time,” Phichit said, aiming for contrition.

Seung-gil’s eyes searched Phichit’s face for a moment, and then he offered a tiny smile. “It’s okay. I’m…I’m _happy_ you wanted to see me so badly.”

Phichit beamed. “I _told_ you I missed you! You were so grumpy yesterday in the lobby!”

Seung-gil blushed. “I’m sorry. It’s…Min-so and…and with PyeongChang, it’s just…”

“Hey,” Phichit said softly, stepping a little closer to where Seung-gil was actually _fidgeting_. (And yes, he was still in that damned towel and Phichit had seen him in the onsen, sure, but there was something about Seung-gil mostly naked standing next to a bed and…)

“Can I kiss you?” Seung-gil asked bluntly, his steely grey eyes glinting.

“Oh god, yes please,” Phichit breathed out. In a moment Seung-gil was on him, his arms pulling tight, his lips warm and soft and so, so insistent…

Something else was a bit insistent after a moment and Phichit squeaked, breaking the kiss before pushing slightly away. Seung-gil looked hurt and bewildered, so Phichit hastened to explain.

“Um, that was…that was _really_ nice but…um…you…and the towel? And…um…I’m really glad to know you’re enjoying this but we haven’t really talked and um…” he cut off his babbling, glancing down quickly before meeting Seung-gil’s eyes again and trying to offer a reassuring smile.

If Seung-gil’s horrified expression and furious blush was anything to go by, he wasn’t succeeding in that reassurance. Seung-gil glanced down. The thin towel did little to hide the cause of Phichit’s sudden discombobulation and, if anything, Seung-gil’s brilliant flush darkened.

“Right. Pants. Give me…sorry, sorry,” Seung-gil stammered as he stumbled back toward the bathroom.

Phichit sat heavily on the mattress before giving in and flopping on his back, giggling heartily. 

***

“Well, you seem to be in a better mood! What happened?” Victor chirped merrily as he and Yuuri slid into the booth at the little café near the stadium. Never much of a morning person, especially when jetlag was factored in, Yuuri just smiled sleepily at Phichit before flopping his head down on Victor’s shoulder.

“A gentleman should never kiss and tell,” Phichit replied coyly.

“Not a gentleman,” Yuuri muttered, rousing enough to glare briefly in Phichit’s direction.

“Rude,” Phichit replied, blowing a raspberry at his best friend.

“Not enough caffeine to be polite,” Yuuri responded tartly. Victor giggled, then waved the server over to order coffee for himself and Phichit and a green tea latte for Yuuri. The Japanese skater kissed his fiancé in quiet thanks, then returned to his narrowed eye contemplation of his former roommate.

“Seung-gil invited me over last night,” Phichit finally said, the words bursting out in glee.

Thank goodness for Victor’s enthusiasm; the skating legend burst out in cheerful applause, even as Yuuri narrowed his eyes.

“So, you two sorted things out, then?” Yuuri asked as the drinks were dropped off. He grabbed his latte, blowing a bit before taking a sip, his eyes never leaving Phichit’s.

“Ahhhh,” Phichit prevaricated, thinking back to the night before. There had been kissing…a _lot_ of kissing. And he was maybe hiding a hickey over his collarbone because apparently Seung-gil liked to bite…but… “We didn’t really get around to the, er, talking part,” he admitted.

“Nothing wrong with blowing off some steam before a competition!” Victor said cheerfully. “Why, just last night, Yuuri was stressed so _mmmph…”_

“Vitya!” Yuuri yelped, his hand firmly over Victor’s mouth.

Victor plucked the hand off, kissing Yuuri’s knuckles. “Yes, _dorogoy_?” he purred, eyes darkening a bit. Phichit fidgeted in his seat, feeling suddenly like an intruder. Victor and Yuuri’s romance was, quite literally, the stuff of legends but…

“Anyway,” he said, clearing his throat. “Nothing really… _happened_ …just…I missed him is all…”

Yuuri flashed him a sympathetic wince. “Yeah, I get that. But you said he was ignoring you the other day. Did he tell you why?”

Phichit shrugged, fidgeting with his coffee. “I mean, we didn’t really talk last night, but we did at practice. I guess his coach has been nagging him lately.”

Victor and Yuuri exchanged a glance. “So…he’s not happy with his training situation?” Victor asked quietly. Phichit shrugged.

“I don’t really know much more than that. We, uh…kind of got distracted…” Phichit admitted with a blush. Things hadn’t gone beyond some rather heavy petting, but they definitely hadn’t talked like he’d originally intended. About Seung-gil’s coach, _or_ about their relationship status. The fluttery little buzz that had been with him since last night fizzled and he slumped over his coffee. “I should probably talk to him,” he muttered.

Victor leaned forward and patted Phichit’s hand. “Take it from me. Actually talking leads to much less confusion in the long run!”

Phichit grinned weakly in the couple’s direction. If anyone would understand the importance of communication, it was definitely those two. 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The short program is a mixed bag for our boys...  
> But they're making plans!

Seung-gil knew other skaters often had superstitions surrounding the draw that determined the order in which they would compete. It had never made sense to him, this fuss over skating first or last or in the middle; skating was a job, what did it matter what order you skated in? Go out, do your job, come back, receive your score.

Today, though, he found himself regretting his positioning. Min-so saw no point in watching the skaters that would take the ice in the groups ahead of him, which meant he wasn’t able to see Phichit perform. Nor was Min-so interested in sharing details beyond the current score to beat.

“The highest score is 92.34. You will need to focus on your quads. There is no reason for you not to score at least 95 with your current program. Aim for top 3 so that you have momentum for the free.”

Seung-gil turned back to his stretches, hiding his face so that Min-so could not see his grimace. 95. He knew it was theoretically achievable; he’d calculated every possible permutation of his program. A perfect performance would earn him nearly 55 points in the technical element alone, but it was frequently the PCS that kept him from achieving the scores Min-so insisted on predicting.

Wooden.

Robotic.

He’d read the articles posted by the analysts he followed on Twitter. He knew what they said about him.

_Technically adequate._

Adequate was not a word in Min-so’s vocabulary, nor was it one he was fond of. He’d never aimed for adequacy, he _wanted_ to be perfect, wanted to _win_. But some intangible element was clearly missing from his performances, an element he suspected Phichit, with his lightness and smiles on the ice, possessed.

“Who is in first?” he finally asked, pulling out of his stretch to look back up at his coach.

“Altin,” she said sharply, her brow furrowed. “No falls, but he tripled his salchow.”

Seung-gil nodded. “What did Chulanont score?” Phichit would have skated just before Altin, so he must not have performed at his best. Seung-gil found himself wishing, again, that he could have watched. At least he’d be able to watch on YouTube later.

“What does it matter?” Min-so replied to his query, her raised eyebrow the only indication that she was surprised by his unusual interest in his competition. “He is not who you should be focusing on. Nor is he a threat at the moment. Katsuki is skating after you; he has not scored below 100 all season. You need to be at your best if you are to beat him.”

Seung-gil nodded, knowing there was no point in pushing for Phichit’s score. Min-so had deemed the Thai skater unworthy of her attention, which was foolish in his opinion. Phichit had made it to the Grand Prix Final two years in a row.

And Seung-gil had made it once.

There was a respectful little cough and Seung-gil glanced back up at the ISU volunteer hovering nearby.

“Your six-minute warm up will begin shortly, Mr. Lee,” the young woman said, bowing slightly and gesturing toward the ice.

Seung-gil nodded and rose from his split on the floor. He and Min-so trailed after the volunteer, joining the other competitors in the hallway to wait for the announcer to call for them. Katsuki and Nikiforov stood behind him and, knowing Min-so wouldn’t dare to stop him, he took a risk.

“What did he score?” he said, eyeing Katsuki. He supposed the man was a friend. Or friend-adjacent, at least. Seung-gil had been to his home twice now. Friends invited people to their homes, according to most of the books he’d read.

Katsuki and Nikiforov exchanged a glance before Katsuki replied. “Oh, Phichit you mean? Um, 87.63,” he offered, his voice quiet.

Well below Phichit’s season best.

“Fall?” he asked bluntly, ignoring Min-so’s tiny glower as he continued the conversation.

This time it was Nikiforov who replied, draping his arm over Katsuki’s shoulders. “No,” said the Russian coach (and skater. Somehow Nikiforov managed to do both. Seung-gil thought it was foolish, but the dual role didn’t seem to hamper him. Though…he didn’t always win anymore, his fiancé/student frequently edging him off the top of the podium.)

“He popped his combination in the back half,” Katsuki offered, his eyes searching Seung-gil’s face. Somewhere in the background, he could hear Min-so clearing her throat, but he continued to ignore her. “He seemed a little distracted this morning, his skating was a little… off…” Katsuki continued before trailing off, looking up at his coach/competitor/fiancé and shrugging a little.

Seung-gil nodded his thanks and turned back to face the ice as the announcer finally called for them to make their appearance. Phichit was distracted. He pondered the possible reasons, his body moving on autopilot, waving and bowing as his name was called. Was it his fault? He hadn’t intended to distract Phichit, but despite his intentions to simply talk, his weakness for the other skater had gotten the better of him last night. He’d thought Phichit enjoyed their…activities, though.

Perhaps Phichit hadn’t enjoyed it as much as Seung-gil, however. Maybe Phichit was distracted because he wanted to end their… relationship? At least, Seung-gil _thought_ they were in a relationship? Maybe Phichit hadn’t intended for things to extend beyond Hasetsu, beyond the steam and warmth of the onsen…

But Phichit had missed him. He’d _told_ Seung-gil that he had missed him. That had to mean something…

Dimly, he heard the announcer calling for the beginning of the warmup and he began to move, picking up speed as he circled on the ice. He was distracted. Min-so would notice if he didn’t go through his normal routine, so he forced himself to practice his step sequences. He felt…

Wooden.

Robotic.

Huh. Was this what the commentators meant? He’d never allowed himself to get so distracted on the ice, but for the first time he agreed with those articles.

Phichit never looked wooden on the ice. But Phichit had looked ‘off’, Katsuki had said.

Seung-gil’s thoughts were circling along with his skates, now. He sped up, launched himself into the air, felt his heart begin to race as he spun, heard the roar of approval from the crowd as he landed smoothly, powder flying up to greet him as his blade cut through the ice.

Phichit made him feel like that, too. Made his heart race like a quad loop.

Phichit, who hadn’t scored his best. Seung-gil wanted this warmup to end, wanted the day to be over so he could solve this puzzle, could figure out what had gone wrong.

What _he_ had done wrong. He was the only changed variable in Phichit’s routine, as far as he knew. Ergo, Phichit’s ‘off’ skating was his fault.

Min-so beckoned him to the side of the rink and he made his way over, automatically accepting the water bottle she handed him.

“Good,” she said briskly. “Your quad loop just now was textbook. Whatever you were doing out there, keep doing it.”

Keep doing it?

He was skating on pure muscle memory, distracted by thoughts of the man he…

By thoughts of Phichit.

Apparently, even when things weren’t perfect, Phichit was good for Seung-gil’s skating.

***

Seung-gil had never cared for the post-short program press conference, or the equally infuriating small medal ceremony. The short program scores were typically too tight to make any real predictions regarding the ultimate victors; Seung-gil felt that the press would be better off interviewing either the entire top six, or nobody at all.

Preferably nobody at all.

As it was, he sat at Katsuki’s side, Altin on the other end of the table, enduring the never-changing litany of questions.

_“Skater Lee, do you feel like you’ll be able to close the gap on your home ice tomorrow?”_

_“Skater Lee, what does it mean to be skating on the same ice as the upcoming Olympics?”_

_“Skater Lee, do you have any words for your fans in the audience today?”_

He, and the others, answered the cascade of queries with the same careful, coach-approved sound bites as always.

Foolishness.

Katsuki sat seven points ahead of him, Altin two points behind. But the pony-tailed American was barely a point behind Altin, and Phichit two points behind him… the list went on. Those scant handfuls of points would barely matter in the free skate. A fall, a popped jump, one good skate…or a bad one.

Everything could change tomorrow.

Seung-gil just wanted this circus to be over. He had more important things to worry about than the short program.

A maybe-boyfriend, for example.

***

Phichit flopped back on his hotel room bed, hair still damp from his shower, and idly poked at his phone. He wasn’t upset, not really; fifth wasn’t a terrible position going into the free skate— he’d be in the final group tomorrow, and that was the important part, really. He loved skating, loved it even more when he could skate with (or against) his friends, and nearly all of them would be in the final group tomorrow. Yuuri, Otabek, Leo, Guang Hong…

Seung-gil.

He sighed, curling up on his side as the too-handsome Korean skater filled his thoughts.

Seung-gil had skated beautifully, earning a season’s best and finishing his short program just a few points behind Yuuri. Those points could mean _everything_ tomorrow; a handful of points in the short program could make the difference between a podium finish and…

Well.

Phichit pouted slightly. He knew he’d left a few points on the ice, points he _should_ have earned. He’d have liked to have been sitting at Yuuri’s side at the presser, but he’d popped that damned combination…

His phone buzzed, pulling him out of the spiral of self-recriminating thoughts.

He grinned when he saw the caller ID, tapping to answer.

“Are you psychic or something?” he asked, his grin widening.

“That is not a real thing,” Seung-gil answered solemnly, causing Phichit to burst into giggles.

“Seung-gil! You’re supposed to ask ‘why?’,” Phichit said between chuckles.

A long-suffering sigh drifted over the line. “Why?” Seung-gil finally asked dutifully.

“Because I was totally just thinking about you!” Phichit replied, delighted that Seung-gil was playing along, however reluctantly.

“Oh,” Seung-gil replied softly. “That…oh. That’s good. Right?”

Phichit’s grin softened. _This ridiculous man…_ “Yeah, that’s good.”

“Oh,” Seung-gil repeated. “I…okay.”

Phichit waited for a moment before speaking. “You called me, you know…” he prompted.

“Dinner,” Seung-gil said bluntly. “There’s a place with good meat nearby. If you want.”

Phichit laughed, delighted. “Seung-gil, are you asking me on a date?”

“Yes?” Seung-gil’s response was a little uncertain.

Phichit shook his head. Ridiculous. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you, silly.”

***

Seung-gil leaned against a column in the hotel lobby, hoping he looked inconspicuous enough to avoid attention from the handful of skating fans he could see lingering around the elevators. He’d gotten off at the third floor, taking the stairs the rest of the way down to avoid the cluster of cameras and autograph seekers, but most of the other skaters weren’t as savvy and were getting caught on their way to dinner.

He snorted lightly. Fools.

“Hiding?”

Seung-gil rolled his eyes as he shrugged, not bothering to look up. That low voice was unmistakable. And where Nikiforov was…

“Don’t tease him, Vitya,” Katsuki scolded, slumping against the column next to Seung-gil.

Seung-gil finally glanced up. Katsuki had his own way of hiding in plain sight, the loose hair and glasses usually enough to disguise him from the fans that were used to seeing his on-ice persona. Nikiforov, however, was a bit too distinct to stay hidden for long, though the ridiculous sunglasses and beanie were an amusing attempt.

“Waiting for someone?” Nikiforov asked, smirking. Katsuki elbowed him, earning a soft ‘oof’ of protest from his fiancé.

“Yes,” Seung-gil replied succinctly, glancing toward the elevator, willing Phichit to hurry.

“We’re heading to dinner, if you want to join us?” Katsuki offered tentatively. Seung-gil turned to consider the Japanese skater for a moment, then shook his head once.

“No,” he replied.

Nikiforov nodded his head wisely. “You want privacy.”

Seung-gil sighed. Clearly the pair weren’t planning on leaving him alone any time soon.

“Yes,” he said curtly, then winced. Katsuki was Phichit’s best friend. Seung-gil rarely bothered to care what others thought of him, but…

He didn’t want _Phichit_ to think badly of him.

Therefore, Katsuki needed to like him, too.

“I have a date,” he added, hoping the couple would leave it at that.

Nikiforov bounced on his toes, someone managing to look like an excited child. A fairly impressive feat for a five-time World Champion with gray hair.

“Oh! Are you finally going to talk? That’s wonderful! He was worried last night!” Nikiforov said.

Seung-gil blinked. Phichit had been worried. About him.

He had been right. He’d ruined Phichit’s performance.

“ _Vitya!_ ” Katsuki said in an exasperated tone before turning to Seung-gil. “Peach really likes you, you know,” he said in a softer voice. “That’s all. But if you’re going on a date, then that’s good.” Katsuki’s eyes suddenly widened. “You are going on a date with _Phichit,_ right?”

A chorus of excited cries rang out through the lobby and the trio turned to peer at the elevator bank, Phichit’s cheerful grin and silly poses unmistakable.

Katsuki slumped slightly, looking relieved. “Of course you are,” he muttered, answering his own question. “We’ll get out of your hair,” Katsuki said. (Another of those bewildering English colloquialisms. What did his hair have to do with anything?)

Nikiforov linked his arm through Yuuri’s, beaming down at his fiancé. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called out cheerfully as he waved farewell.

Which wasn’t terribly useful advice, Seung-gil mused as he waited for Phichit to excuse himself from the excited fans. Nikiforov had once stripped naked in the middle of a restaurant, part of the strange courtship that had played out between the Russian coach and Katsuki over the course of that season’s Grand Prix. For some reason Phichit had felt the need to send him photographic evidence of this incident.

He had deleted the photo from his phone immediately.

Still, Phichit had seemed weirdly delighted by the situation. Hopefully, he didn’t expect similar nudity tonight.

At least not at the restaurant…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Meant for this to be a two parter, but this section was going a lot longer than I anticipated! 
> 
> I'm struggling with writing right now, so I'm trying to just write the story that seems to flow on any given day, so if you're waiting on a particular piece, that's why I seem to be jumping around my wips. 
> 
> I like to write in quiet but public places; quiet bars at 2 in the afternoon, coffee shops at off-peak hours... Just enough ambient noise to feel connected, but not enough to distract me. Writing at home is hard in a lot of ways. It's at once too quiet and too easy to become distracted. But I'm working on it!
> 
> Hope everyone is safe and well.
> 
> Come scream at me on Twitter if you're bored! @SongbirdsaraW


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seung-gil and Phichit both overthink things. Yuuri gets dragged into the middle of it all.

Thoughts of Phichit buoyed Seung-gil through the 6-minute warm up and followed him back onto the ice where he forced himself to concentrate on Min-so’s standard send-off. 

Yes. Yes. He was doing this for Pyeongchang. Glory to the homeland and everything that being South Korea’s top male skater piled on his shoulders. 

He nodded perfunctorily before pushing off from the barrier, skating in a few tight circles as he tried to focus his thoughts on his routine, his scores…

_ Phichit gasping beneath him, a red mark blossoming on the dark skin of his neck as Seung-gil pressed him into the mattress… _

The announcer called his name, dragging Seung-gil’s thoughts back to the present, to the rink, to the crowds cheering around him…

The music started and Seung-gil tried to focus on the elements, on counting the points, but he kept losing track…

His long, languid step sequence reminded him too much of the way Phichit’s fingers drifted down his back, his camel spin brought to mind Phichit’s flexibility, his quad loop set his heart racing the same way Phichit’s lips did…

The music came to a halt and Seung-gil held his pose, gasping for breath and, for the first time in his career, with no clue of what he’d scored. 

***

96.75.

A season’s best by several points. A personal best by a half point. Enough to push Seung-gil into first with only Leroy and Katsuki left.

“Solid. You’ll be in the final group for the free skate which puts you in a strong position to medal,” Min-so was saying as they left the Kiss and Cry, heading for the media scrum that presaged the post-short program press conference. With only two skaters left to perform, Seung-gil was guaranteed to take a small medal, earning his place in the media spotlight. 

Seung-gil nodded distractedly. He’d been surprised by his score. When was the last time that had happened? He always knew his technical scores within a fraction of a point before he ever left the ice…

“I’m not sure where your head was,” Min-so continued, “but your presentation scores were the best they’ve been all season.”

Seung-gil frowned slightly at his coach’s understatement. His presentation scores had been better than they’d  _ ever _ been. Something had changed his performance. Some _ one _ had changed his performance… 

He’d never hated the thought of the post-short program press-conference as much as he did at that moment. While Phichit was still in third, Katsuki was almost certain to knock Chulanont out of his positioning, even if Leroy imploded the way he sometimes did at major competitions. Which meant Seung-gil would have to wait hours to see the man, meant Seung-gil wouldn’t be able to piece together why their…  _ association  _ had caused Phichit’s scores to slip and his own to rise so spectacularly. 

“Seung-gil Lee! This way please! How does it feel to have pulled off such strong scores in your home territory?” 

Seung-gil jerked himself out of his reverie at the question. He hesitated a moment too long, the practiced responses slipping from his memory.

“Of course, we are very proud to be able to represent South Korea in this manner,” Min-so stepped in smoothly, her tight media smile in place even as her eyes flashed ominously in Seung-gil’s direction, reminding him that his focus had drifted. 

“Yes, very proud,” Seung-gil echoed flatly. 

But Min-so ignored him, already expounding on how Seung-gil’s scores were a reflection of her focus on his technical elements and his heightened sense of patriotic duty. The words rang hollow in Seung-gil’s ears as he stood uselessly at her side. 

“Ah, Katsuki’s just finished. Congratulations on your second place finish in the short program!” 

Seung-gil nodded perfunctorily in the reporter’s direction. He couldn’t wait to finish this farce. He knew who he needed to talk to and it would be impossible with cameras aimed in his face. 

***

“Katsuki.”

Yuuri turned at the flat voice, glancing in confusion at Victor before responding. “Ah, yes? Seung-gil! Um, congratulations on your new personal best!” The press-conference had just finished and it was highly unusual that Seung-gil hadn’t immediately retreated afterward. 

Seung-gil nodded curtly. “And to you for your first place finish. I need to talk to you. Alone.”

“Ah… of course,” Yuuri responded weakly, shrugging at his fiancee. “Um, did you want to talk now or…” 

“I need advice,” Seung-gil grated out. “I will buy you a drink.”

“Oh, um, I don’t…”

“Yuuuuu~uuri! You have a whole day before the free skate! Go! Spend time with your friend!”

Yuuri wasn’t sure he liked the mischievous sparkle in Victor’s blue eyes but he knew when he was defeated. “Ah. Sure. One drink. Um, just give me an hour to get cleaned up and I can meet you somewhere?” 

Seung-gil was tapping at his phone as Yuuri spoke and Yuuri was somehow unsurprised to feel his own phone vibrate. 

“I’ve sent you an address. I will meet you there in an hour,” Seung-gil said before turning to walk away. 

“Okay. Great! Uh, looking forward to it!” Yuuri said weakly, Victor holding in silent giggles at his side. 

***

Yuuri had felt guilty abandoning his fiance in their hotel room but Victor had waved off his hesitance with a blithe promise that he planned on FaceTiming with Chris and would be ‘perfectly fine, Yuuri, go help Seung-gil become a real boy!’

Whatever  _ that _ meant.

Sitting in awkward silence in the dark booth, Yuuri was starting to sort of understand Victor’s reference. Seung-gil stared at him unblinking, his words and gestures almost robotic. Though… there’d been nothing robotic about the other skater’s performance today. Yuuri found it fascinating. Seung-gil Lee had always been something of a familiar enigma, as quiet as Yuuri himself had once been, but in a wholly different manner. 

Yuuri’s quietness had stemmed from a combination of shyness and anxiety that he’d only  _ mostly _ gotten over since the chaotic arrival of Victor Nikiforov in his life. He’d once assumed that Seung-gil’s own taciturn nature arose more from aloofness and a sort of calm disdain for his fellow competitors. 

It was only once he’d caught a glimpse of Seung-gil’s tearful frustration after a disappointing appearance at the Cup of China two seasons ago that he’d started to think that perhaps the other man was more similar to Yuuri than he’d thought…

“I want to have sex with Phichit,” Seung-gil said without preamble.

The sip of whiskey Yuuri’d just taken went down the wrong pipe, forcing him to cough awkwardly as he struggled to breathe. 

“No,” Yuuri protested when he finally composed himself, his eyes still watering from his coughing fit.

Seung-gil blinked at him, nonplussed. 

“No, I cannot have sex with Phichit?” he asked tonelessly.

Yuuri sighed, scrubbing his hands over his eyes. “No, that’s not… I meant… no. This is not a conversation we are having.”

Seung-gil’s dark grey eyes narrowed appraisingly for a long moment, his lips pursed. Finally, he nodded. “I have made you uncomfortable. I apologize?” His voice shifted at the end, turning his statement into a query. 

Yuuri’s mental map of Seung-gil shifted a bit further at that hint of uncertainty. No, Seung-gil wasn’t aloof, he was just… awkward. It was weirdly endearing, honestly. 

“It’s not that, Seung-gil, but… that… sex, I mean… it’s… something you and Phichit should discuss. Together, I mean. Not with… other people. But,” he continued, trying to keep his voice gentle without sounding condescending, “I don’t think that’s what you really wanted to talk about, is it?”

Seung-gil’s brow furrowed as he stared down into his drink, steely eyes hooded in thought. “No?” he replied after a long moment, that note of uncertainty back in his voice. 

Yuuri waited patiently as Seung-gil worked out what he wanted to ask. (Phichit. He was doing this for Phichit, he reminded himself sternly.)

“I don’t know how to be...to do…” Seung-gil’s brows were still furrowed as he hesitantly spoke, seeming to search for the right words. 

“You don’t want something casual, is that it?” Yuuri guessed, keeping his tone gentle. 

“No.” Seung-gil seemed faintly relieved that Yuuri had entered the fray. 

Yuuri nodded. “He cares for you, you know,” he added encouragingly. “You should be talking to him about this, not me.”

“I ruined his skating!” Seung-gil snapped, his eyes flashing before he sat back, looking mortified at his outburst. 

“What?” Yuuri asked, taken aback. 

“He makes my skating better. Being with him last night, it’s… it’s why I skated so well. But he skated poorly. It’s my fault. If that’s how I make him skate, then how can I… I can’t… I can’t do that to his skating.”

Yuuri felt the faintest beginnings of a headache forming. He took a judicious sip of his drink anyway, desperately wishing Victor was there. His fiance was so much better at this sort of conversation… 

“Seung-gil,” he began slowly, “you can’t blame yourself for Phichit’s skating. He didn’t do badly, he’s still in reach of the podium. I don’t know why he didn’t do as well as usual but at the end of the day, he was the one on the ice, not you. He’s an adult. If there’s something on his mind, he knows better than to bring it out on the ice with him.”

“I’m the changed factor,” Seung-gil argued stubbornly. 

Yuuri sighed. How had he missed the similarity in Phichit and Seung-gil’s abilities to be stubborn beyond all rational reason? 

Of course, Victor would probably point out that he was rather the pot calling the kettle black in this situation, so…

“If you really think that’s true, then you need to talk to him. Tonight. Before the free skate. Don’t bottle it up and let it affect your  _ own _ skating. Ah, in a negative way, I mean. Phichit wouldn’t want that, either.”

Seung-gil nodded sharply. “I will talk to him. If you believe he would want that?” He fixed his steely gaze on Yuuri’s face and Yuuri felt the sudden urge to spill every secret Phichit had shared with him about his feelings for the Korean skater. Scary. Seung-gil would do well at interrogation with that piercing stare.

***

Phichit was flopped out on his bed, thumbing idly through Instagram. Yuuri wasn’t answering his phone, Seung-gil hadn’t called, Guang Hong and Leo had gone off without him, his short program had sucked, everything sucked and he was so boooorrred. 

Stupid combination jump. He’d changed it after the Grand Prix series, trying to up his difficulty and max out his technical score after his disappointment over missing the Final. He desperately wanted to make the podium at Worlds in a few months but now he was second guessing his ambitions. Oh, sure, Ciao Ciao had tried to rally his spirits, telling him fifth wasn’t bad placement going into the free skate but still…

He was more than 15 points back from Yuuri’s score. He’d never top the podium with that much of a deficit... 

(Here’s a secret about Phichit Chulanont that he’d never admit out loud. He was just as competitive as Yuuri and Victor and Plisetsky and Leroy. He was just less obvious about it. Beating Yuuri at Cup of China? Still one of his proudest moments as a skater…)

More important than topping the podium though, he’d wanted to impress, well…  _ everyone _ . His country, his family, his friends…

_ Seung-gil. _

Phichit groaned at the thought of his… what? Boyfriend? Lover? Friend with highly enjoyable benefits? Phichit knew which option he’d prefer, but Seung-gil remained inscrutable on the topic. 

He’d certainly enjoyed their activities the previous night, and he’d thought Seung-gil had as well. Still, he’d found himself second-guessing everything during the lead up to his short program and he suspected it had shown in his skating. Celestino had confirmed the suspicion with the little side eye he’d shot Phichit in the Kiss and Cry. Skaters tended to put their hearts on the ice and Phichit had been unable to hide his uncertainty, his hopes, his fears…

Phichit pursed his lips, tapping at his phone. Seung-gil was usually the exception to most rules of skating; technical, cold and closed off on the ice. Phichit knew Seung-gil wasn’t always like that  _ off _ the ice. He had several hickeys to prove that the South Korean star understood passion. There had been something familiar about the way Seung-gil had skated today, something that could maybe explain why his PCS had been so much higher than usual…

Phichit watched the recap of Seung-gil’s skate on the tiny screen of his phone, allowed himself to wonder a bit at the expression on Seung-gil’s face, at the languid motion of that strong, lithe frame. A notification interrupted Phichit’s rapt attention; a call, from the very subject of the alluring video.

“Seung-gil!” Phichit chirped, feigning a carefree happiness that he didn’t really feel at the moment.

“Phichit,” Seung-gil acknowledged. “Can we talk?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaah, sorry, writing continues to be a challenge. I've been working again, but the hours are a lot longer than pre-quarantine and my days off are spent playing catch up with sleep and errands. I promise, I fully intend to finish all my current WIPs!

**Author's Note:**

> A little continuation of A Failure to Communicate in honor of SeungChuchu week 2020!
> 
> Special thanks to PeppyBismilk for the quick read-thru!


End file.
